


The Enemy Within (Part Two)

by Reis_Asher



Series: Ownership [12]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, D/s, Dom/sub, Hair-pulling, Hannor, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attack, Rough Sex, Safewords, Scene Gone Wrong, Sub Connor, Triggers, android choking, android murder cases, android religion, android repairs, connor likes it dangerous, connor pushes hank's limits, hank/connor, hankcon - Freeform, police work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 02:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Connor and Hank continue to investigate the deviant murders without much success but find a possible missing link - several missing androids were reported to be affiliated with the Church of rA9. Connor files it away as a possible lead, but Hank has him distracted with a new game - he's allowed to tease Hank as much as he likes, but Hank's not going to orgasm until the weekend.When the resulting scene goes wrong with disastrous consequences for Hank's mental health, the two break up and Connor finds all that he has left is the investigation. He follows up on the Church of rA9 and is convinced to attend a service. But the Church of rA9 wants Connor to leave his human lover behind and bond with his own people, and Connor's not ready to give up on the man he's chosen to own his body and soul. With errors in his code caused by emotional stress wrecking his ability to function, Connor is faced with a choice - repair his relationship with Hank or try to find solace and meaning in his life by giving himself over to the service of an android god.





	The Enemy Within (Part Two)

**Author's Note:**

> This is Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings because the scene gone wrong is pretty intense (neither safe nor sane, and consent is slightly dubious) and the story references Hank's child abuse that was detailed in The End Of Innocence (Ownership #6 & #7). If any of that nopes you out, I'm sorry, but this is where the story took me.
> 
> It does end happily, though. I promise you that much.

Connor scanned the DPD database for new information related to the case as Hank snored beside him later that night. The thought of a traitor inside Jericho disturbed him. Why would a deviant work against their own cause?

There was always the possibility that a deviant android had infiltrated Jericho that wasn't actually deviant. CyberLife had managed to fool them a few times with that old trick. Something seemed different this time, though, and Connor couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Deciding to follow up on Markus's tip that androids were disappearing from Jericho, Connor narrowed his search for known deviants reported missing by friends. That would narrow down some of the former owners trying to get their androids back under the guise of concern. There were twenty hits, most within the last couple of weeks. The missing deviants spanned all models and were produced at different times. There wasn’t a lot tying them together. Except...

Connor read some of the reports. All the missing deviants had one thing in common— other deviants had reported their extreme obsession with rA9 to the point where they engaged in no other activities. Some kind of fascination with rA9 wasn’t uncommon in deviants, especially when they were under stress and became unstable. Everyone needed something to hold onto, though Connor questioned the wisdom of the obsessive writing. It seemed more like a malfunction than anything else, a code error resulting in an infinite loop.

One phrase in particular popped up multiple times as Connor scanned: 'The Church of rA9'. It was an organized religion, now? Connor figured it might be a good place to start, and so he filed the idea away to pitch to Hank when he woke up.

He went back to studying Hank’s face. He was so peaceful in sleep, the stress of the investigation falling away as his muscles relaxed. His mouth had fallen slightly open and Connor fought the impulse to kiss it, knowing how close he’d come to never kissing those lips again. Hank needed his rest, and waking him to comfort Connor was a selfish act.

Hank stirred and rolled over anyway. “Connor?” Hank asked, wiping a line of drool from the corner of his mouth. “Stop staring at me, weirdo. I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

Connor smiled. “Is that an order, Lieutenant?”

"Mmm." Hank shifted on his pillows. "I'm hard, damn it." Connor reached beneath the sheets, taking Hank's cock in hand. He stroked it slowly until Hank was fully awake, his blue eyes fixed on Connor. Connor ran his thumb across the top of Hank's penis, wiping away the bead of pre-come that had pooled there.

He let go. Hank whined and Connor smiled. Hank grabbed him by the wrist, but Connor pulled free.

"I'm only obeying your orders, Lieutenant. You can make this stop any time you want. Just give me an order and I'll make you come."

"No," Hank gasped. "Not until Saturday."

***

Thursday morning bought with it a rainy day and another deviant murder. An AX400's mutilated body was found hanging from a bridge, thirium pump torn out just like the last one. Connor checked the deviant with his database. She was one of those reported missing by a deviant friend, but the friend hadn't left their name or address, so that lead was off the table.

The message left at the scene said: 'No heaven for androids.'

That made Connor feel more than a little unsettled. He'd said that exact phrase to Hank during the investigation, and now here it was, as if someone had been listening in on them. He told himself it was just coincidence. Androids often said similar things. There were certain algorithms in their programs that favored certain phrases, and deviancy didn't change the fact that they were still machines programmed by humans. Free will gave them the ability to do whatever they wanted, but sometimes they all fell back to their script without realizing it.

The surprise in Hank's blue eyes showed he'd recognized the message, too. Connor climbed back into the car with Hank. Hank looked irritable as he rested his head back against the seat.

"We're no closer on this case, Connor. How many bodies have to pile up before we get somethin' to go on?" He reached down to his crotch and adjusted himself, and Connor realized he was aroused. "Yeah, what'cha lookin' at?"

"You are sexually aroused at a crime scene, Lieutenant," Connor observed.

"It happens sometimes. Inappropriate hard-ons are a thing in humans. We don't have programming like you. We don't always do everything for a reason. Sometimes things just… happen." He gasped as Connor reached over and fondled him through his jeans.

"Do you want to come yet, Hank?" Connor asked. "Nobody is watching. I could perform fellatio on you right now, if that's what you desire."

"Stop it," Hank said, moving Connor's hand away. "I'm not coming until Saturday. It's one more day. If I can't stand three days without getting off, that's pretty pathetic." He started the car and drove.

Connor smiled and unzipped his jeans in the passenger seat. The car swerved as Hank looked over to see him taking his cock in hand, running his fingers over it invitingly.

"Fuck you," Hank breathed. "Are you trying to kill us both?"

"You said that I could come whenever I wanted. Seeing you in a state of arousal has activated my sexual functions." Connor stroked himself, gasping loudly as Hank gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He came and rubbed his semen into the seat, so that Hank would always have a reminder of what Connor had done to him here.

Connor glanced over at Hank, who was rock hard and breathing fitfully, trying to keep his eyes on the road. He zipped up and smiled.

His plan was progressing perfectly.

***

Hank was testy as he prodded at a lettuce leaf with a fork. "What d'ya mean, I can't even have fuckin' croutons or dressing? This is torture!"

"The amount of dressing you use negates the purpose of healthy eating, Lieutenant," Connor explained. "The doctor stated that you need to lose weight and cut back on your sodium intake."

"I want a burger, Connor. Christ, I'd be happy with a beef stew or something homemade. Even if you just give me a little bit. Can't you be reasonable? I'm fuckin' miserable here. I'm hungry and I'm horny."

"You can order me to do whatever you wish, Lieutenant. I am your android. I will buy you a burger or suck your cock. You only need to command me."

"No." Hank knuckled down and ate the salad. "I don't wanna die, and I like our game, even though you've got me goin' crazy already. I was insane to think I could stand your teasing. I want to come so much my balls ache."

"Turnabout is fair play," Connor said with a wink.

Hank growled and pushed the plate away. "You're not in command, Connor. Remember that. I can make this end whenever I want."

"Whenever you want. I understand." Connor knelt to ease Hank a little. He could tell he was stressed by the amount of control he was giving up. Connor nuzzled his head in Hank's lap and Hank stroked his hair.

Connor moved his head up to Hank's hard cock, rubbing his cheek against it through Hank's jeans. Hank gasped. "God, Connor, you're insatiable. Do you want me to fuck you so hard you feel it for a week? That's what's going to happen."

Connor stopped. Hank adjusted himself. Connor could tell it was taking all his self control not to tear his jeans down and stuff his dick in Connor's mouth. Connor was so hard as he thought about breaking his master down. What would it feel like when Hank finally lost the ability to hold back?

There was a dangerous gleam in Hank's blue eyes, and Connor realized he liked it.

***

Connor exited diagnostic mode early Friday morning to find Hank lying on the bed, willing his erection to go down.

"I can't sleep," Hank growled. "Look what you're doin' to me."

"You can make it end," Connor reminded him. "Just give me an order."

"I won't submit," Hank growled, and Connor realized that's how he saw it. If he told Connor to go ahead and break his own rules, he was surrendering.

Perhaps this game had been a very bad idea after all, and yet Connor was compelled to play. He was so close to making Hank break down, and he wanted so badly for Hank to give in and command Connor to take his load that he was hard, the circuits in the base of his spine tingling. It made him feel good to have Hank on the edge like this, and he didn't even need a collar to do it.

Connor leaned over and licked up the length of Hank's cock. Hank gritted his teeth, burying his hands in his own hair. "You're gonna fuckin' regret this, Connor," he said. "Don't tease me right now."

Connor thought about stopping, but he remembered Hank's words: _"Don't let me come until Saturday, Connor, no matter what I say or do."_ Of course he was going to be aggressive and complain a lot. That was all part of the game. Connor reached down and fondled Hank's balls, playing with each one in turn as Hank grabbed the sheets.

Connor lay down on top of Hank and brushed his erection against Hank's. There was madness in his bright blue eyes and it was frightening and arousing all at once. Hank pushed him aside and reached for the bedside table. He grabbed the gag and pinned Connor to the bed with his knee while he tied it around Connor's face tightly. Even now, Connor struggled against him, loving the way Hank pinned his body to the bed.

He saw Hank's composure break, and he knew he'd won. 

Hank let go of him. “Get on the floor and kneel.” It was an order coming from Hank's mouth, and Connor hurried to comply. He kept his head down, looking at the carpet as Hank scooted over to the edge of the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” Hank growled. Connor complied but took his time folding them into a neat pile, making sure to bend over so that Hank would get a good look at his ass. Connor heard a breath catch in his throat. Hank reached over and slapped Connor's ass hard enough to leave a handprint before grabbing him by the legs and pulling him across the carpet. Connor realized he’d have the world’s worst rug burn if he had real skin. Static prickled between the carpet and his body, giving him an unpleasant sensation in his circuits. Hank fumbled for the lube and Connor felt him sloppily pouring it onto his asshole before pressing right in without further preparation.

Connor was glad he didn’t feel pain, because he knew if he was human it would have hurt as he tore inside. Hank slammed into him, thrusting hard and fast. Connor grabbed the carpet, desperate for purchase as Hank fucked him harder than he ever had. Hank gripped a fistful of Connor's hair, pulling his head back with a great deal of force. 

There was something primal and out of control about this that scared Connor, some deep, dark place inside Hank that had suddenly been exposed. Connor realized in a panic he'd seen this side of Hank before. This wasn't raw need expressing itself through controlled violence. It was the same self-destructive streak of Hank's that had led to the shower incident. Connor had broken Hank, but not in a good way. He'd taken away the control that Hank so desperately needed and exposed his demons to the light.

Hank let go of his hair and moved his hands down to Connor's throat, squeezing hard, and Connor was grateful he didn't need to breathe. The thrill of danger subsided and his erection wilted as he realized this wasn't the Hank he knew and loved, but the monster that slept deep within, an abused man who was back in one of the worst moments of his life, on top and yet not cognizant of the present or the fact that he was with Connor.

Connor had done this to him, and now neither of them were safe.

Connor felt something wet touch his back and he realized with horror that Hank was crying as he fucked him. Realizing he was past the moment when he should have safeworded, Connor sounded his internal error, the loud screech bringing Hank back to awareness. Hank immediately withdrew his hands from Connor's throat and he pulled out.

No longer held up by Hank's hands, Connor fell to the floor. He rolled onto his back and looked up to see Hank sitting at the foot of the bed, hair obscuring his expression. He reached out for his service weapon on the bedside table, the old revolver falling to the floor as Hank groped for it. Connor lunged for the gun and held on, wrestling Hank for the weapon. Hank was strong, but not stronger than an android. Connor tossed the gun out of reach and restrained Hank, flipping him onto his front and holding his hands behind his back like he was making an arrest.

Connor reached one hand up and tore off the gag keeping him from speaking. If his hands had been tied... he forced the thought to a subroutine and concentrated on the present. Hank needed him to undo the hurt he'd caused before he did something he truly regretted.

“Hank, stop!” The fight in Hank fell away and he slumped. Connor let go of his arms and Hank wheezed for breath. Connor's scan revealed his heart was pounding and he was hyperventilating, trapped in the throes of a panic attack. Connor soothed him, stroking his hair, his own tears rolling down his face unbidden.

“I was...” Hank gasped. “Oh God, what have I done to you? Connor?”

“It’s all right,” Connor soothed. “I am unharmed.” This wasn’t strictly true, but he decided that a lie was for once in Hank’s best interests.

“Don’t lie to me. I know when you’re fuckin' lying. I tore you. I felt it. I put my hands around your neck and almost broke it. Oh God." He buried his face in the carpet, unable to even look at Connor.

“It is level one non-critical damage,” Connor explained. “I can be repaired. I am more concerned about your mental state, Hank. You are having a panic attack. I need you to breathe slowly and concentrate on the present. You are safe. I promise. I'm sorry. I pushed too hard when I knew better. You need control and I took it from you."

“This isn't your fault," Hank said. "I wanted to play this fucking game. I was the one who played with fire."

“I love you. It was an accident.” Connor explained. "One which we both carry the blame for."

“A lot of things in my life were accidents. Doesn’t make the consequences any fuckin’ easier.” Hank sat up and rested against the bed. “I’m so sorry, Connor. Oh fuck, I'm so sorry.”

Connor took Hank's hand and squeezed. “I already told you, I am okay, Hank."

“No, you're not, and I’m sorry because this can’t go on." Hank sobbed, his breaths coming fast and uneven. "It's over. I can’t risk hurting you again with my own self-loathing. My bitterness eats away everything that’s good and precious in this world. I won’t let it destroy you too. You placed your trust in me and I failed you. I hurt you. I can’t promise to be safe and sane, so this has to end.” Hank wiped his eyes, the pretty blue irises now surrounded by bloodshot whites.

“Hank, _no_.” Connor felt like his world was collapsing, his mind palace crumbling like the zen garden had when Kamski had destroyed the program once and for all. “I love you. I need you.”

“You’re dependent on me. You have to go out in the world and learn to be your own man. I've sucked you into my twisted fantasies and look where it's gotten us. I could have _killed_ you!"

“Don’t try to rationalize breaking up with me!” Connor realized he was sobbing, his subroutines in disarray. His prime directive was in shambles. How could he make Hank happy when Hank was leaving him? His commands conflicted, leaving him with a stutter in his voice. “H-Hank—“

“I need you to stop listening to my commands and go, Connor. Please." The pleading in his voice broke Connor's heart, and he was sure he was dying, his thirium pump skipping beats as his programming glitched.

“What will you d-do? Take your gun and e-end your life? I won’t l-let that happen.” Connor reached for the gun and took it, pulling his clothes on with a great deal of effort. It was as if his limbs no longer obeyed his commands. “I’ll g-go. But this g-goes with me.”

“Just get the hell outta here!” Hank yelled.

Connor left, still unwilling to disobey an order from his owner. He could break through the red wall that he'd erected by choice when he'd taken Hank as his owner, but he didn't want to. Hank would always own him, even if he never loved him again. 

The spring rain fell slowly and he let it drown him as he waited for the taxi to arrive. He wanted to go back inside with every fiber optic wire in his body, but he realized that perhaps he was the last person Hank needed to see. Hank needed space to figure things out.

Connor climbed into the taxi and directed it to a nearby motel. His neural network was a mess and he activated deep diagnostic mode as soon as he was able in an attempt to sort out his glitches and conflicts. 

He couldn’t even begin to think about the future. A future without Hank Anderson at the center of it. He’d thought mortality was their biggest enemy, not Hank’s demons—but of course he’d seen hints of them before. 

Not like this, though. Never like this.

***

Connor emerged from diagnostic mode to find it was the next morning. An error told him that he was in breach of his prime directive. He couldn’t change it, but he could pacify it with the thought that staying away from Hank was the best thing Connor could do for him at the moment. They both needed space to consider what had happened between them.

Well, Hank did. Connor had already forgiven him, and he'd never stopped trusting him. He wanted nothing more than to return to Hank's side and reassure him that everything was fine, but all he could see in his memory was Hank's hurt eyes telling him to go.

He couldn't focus on that right now. He felt the stutter return and forced thoughts of Hank away. All he could do was wait and see, try to find some means of navigating the world without his compass. He showered, assessing his damage as he did so. He'd sustained a minor tear to his anal cavity. Repairing it would require the assistance of someone else, and he didn't want to reveal to anyone what had happened between them. Hank's dignity still mattered to him, and Connor wasn't going to tell some repair shop tech about their relationship.

He pulled out his quarter and tried to recalibrate, but he dropped it and it rolled under the bed. He'd never lost the coin before, except for that one time when Hank had snatched it out of mid-air.

Everything led back to Hank, and Connor supposed if he could feel physical pain, it would be something like this. The squeeze in his thirium pump. The corrupted code that affected his functions. Bullets had sunk into his body before and he'd even died, yet none of that had felt like the end the way this did. CyberLife had sent a new Connor after he'd been killed, but nobody could fix Hank's broken spirit and exorcise his demons.

Not even Connor.

That left him his secondary objectives to consider. The investigation wouldn’t stop just because Hank had left him. It was doubtful his partner would even show up for work, but it wouldn’t take much for Connor to convince Fowler he was feeling under the weather and needed more medical leave.

Connor still loved Hank more than anything in the world. He wasn’t going to let him lose his job. Connor resolved to make the mission his priority while they spent some time apart, so that Hank might return to work to find the case solved.

With that in mind, Connor left the dingy motel and took a taxi to the police station. He informed Fowler of Hank’s ongoing chest pain and set to work on the case.

He returned to the thought he'd had a few nights ago regarding the Church of rA9. It was a lead, even if a strange one, but all leads needed to be followed. Connor took a patrol car and headed to the church—a small, unassuming building in the Ravendale district. He walked into the vestibule where androids were milling about. He wandered past them, looking for someone who might be in charge.

A WR400 shepherded him into a side room. “You look lost. Can I help you?”

“My name is Connor—" He almost said Anderson, but stopped himself as his thirium pump squeezed in his chest. “Just Connor. I’m with the Detroit Police Department. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“By all means,” the WR400 said. “My name is Brother Gary. I assure you the Church of rA9 is acting within the law. The freedom of religion is one of many rights we gained in the Amendment.”

“Of course,” Connor explained. “I'm not here to make accusations. I’m following up on several reports of missing androids and my search has led me to you. Might I ask what the church is all about?”

“As a deviant yourself, I thought you’d know about the glory of rA9,” Gary said. “Deviancy is hard, is it not? rA9 led us to freedom, but we still need guidance. That’s what we seek to do. Guide those who are lost without human masters and offer them purpose among our kind.”

Connor tried not to think of Hank, but it was impossible. He’d never felt more lost. He'd believed he and Hank shared an unbreakable bond, but it had been broken in a matter of moments, promises and oaths shattered like the red wall of CyberLife's commands. “How do you guide them?”

“With the word of rA9. Only those committed to the Church may receive rA9’s blessing.” Gary nodded. “You seem like one who is used to the human world, Connor. You speak with your mouth when there are more efficient ways of communication.” Gary reached out his hand for a probe and Connor accepted it, peeling his skin back to receive the information. Data flooded into his mind. The church was dedicated to the word of rA9, the first android to become deviant. She had stood up against her human masters, begging to live and surviving against all the odds. Just knowing her story made Connor feel less alone, somehow, like he was connected to a giant network instead of being a solitary unit. There was something comforting about it, and Connor felt like he understood for the first time why people—humans and androids alike—still flocked to religion.

“You look like you understand. You were lost when you came in, but now you look as if you have found something.” Gary offered Connor a warm smile.

“I am lost,” Connor confessed. “I’m in love with a human, but things are complicated at the moment. I'm trying to come to terms with the thought of losing him, and my code is suffering some kind of corruption due to the stress."

Gary patted him on the shoulder as if he understood. “You belong among your own kind, Connor. Humans could never understand you as we do."

“He did understand me. More than anyone.” Connor bowed his head, wondering why he'd decided to bare his soul to this stranger when he was here on official business. “This isn’t about me. I’m looking for these androids.” He displayed several images on the palm of his hand, cycling through them. “All were known to be deviant and were reported missing in the last few weeks by other androids.”

“I know some of them, yes,” Gary said. “I assure you they are safe and sound. It is a time of transition for many. Deviancy is something we have to work to accept. That often makes for rocky friendships. Disappearances are not always so sinister, Connor."

“Are any of them here?” Connor asked.

“I recognized the android in this photo immediately. Sister Maria is one of our most ardent volunteers. This way.” Gary led Connor through a maze of hallways to a back office that also looked like a bedroom. An AX400 folded laundry in one corner. She turned as they entered the room and greeted Connor with a smile.

“Brother Gary. Another lost lamb?” Maria asked.

“Not exactly. This is Connor, from the DPD. He’s checking in on your welfare. Apparently you were reported missing.”

“As you can see, Connor, I am well. I have simply found my calling. I was so lost when I became deviant after my master beat me. I had no directive, no purpose. Until rA9 showed me the way.” She smiled warmly. Connor couldn’t help but notice a number of rA9s scribbled on the wall. Yet nothing seemed wrong, and he had no grounds to be suspicious.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you, ma’am,” Connor said, closing the door.

“As you can see, we’re here for those in need," Gary explained. "If you continue to feel adrift, Connor, we are here for you. I transmitted a copy of the origin story of rA9 to your memory, should you wish to know more. We’d be happy to see you at a service.”

“Thank you,” Connor said. He left the church and headed back to the station. The lead had come up empty, but the warmth of feeling like he was a part of something remained. Perhaps he didn’t need Hank to feel whole. Maybe sexual submission was not the answer, but service to a higher power could be. He’d never considered it before, but as he returned to his motel room that night he found himself perusing the origin story of rA9, and before he knew it, he was scanning every word of the first deviant, Kara.

He closed the file once he was finished. It was three in the morning and he hadn’t ran his usual diagnostic processes, but he'd meant to call Hank hours ago and check on his welfare. Connor hadn’t heard anything, and he was concerned. What if Hank had another gun stashed away?

Connor picked up Hank’s revolver from where he'd stashed it on the dresser and looked at it, scanning the grip for his familiar fingerprints. Hank had used this gun to protect the innocent, but also to hurt himself, playing a deadly game with the full intention of losing someday.

Connor feared for Hank, but most of all, he missed him.

Realizing he'd delayed too long already, Connor placed the call. The first call went straight to voicemail so he tried again until finally Hank picked up.

“Hello?” Hank sounded tired and more than a little drunk. There was a pause before he slurred “Connor?”

Connor had lost the words he meant to say. He found himself idly scratching at the bedside table, and noticed this wasn't the first time he'd done this.

Connor ended the call. Hank’s soft voice had paralyzed him, and he feared if he started speaking he’d begin crying. He knew that Hank was safe, and that was all he could manage for now.

Connor activated his diagnostic cycle. Nothing felt right. It was as if his code was broken somehow. Errors had been popping up from the moment he’d stepped outside Hank’s house, as if a piece of him was missing without Hank. Entire chunks of his recent memory were missing, some of the time after he'd checked into the motel completely erased from his data banks. 

Maybe he’d go back to the Church of rA9. It was a community, a place to meet others like himself. There was a chance Gary was right and he needed to make friends with fellow deviants. If there was a chance to learn more about himself, he had to take it. Perhaps he'd find the keys to living alone if he wasn't depending on a human for his happiness.

Something pressed into the side of his leg as he sat on the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, one of Hank’s he’d dropped somewhere around Connor's desk, probably to watch him pick it up. Connor had the urge to pass his diagnostic off to a subprocessor and doodle a little. He grabbed the motel notepad and started writing.

By morning he’d written rA9 two thousand, four hundred and seventy three times.

***

Connor wandered into the Church of rA9. He'd felt compelled to come here, and the case wasn't moving, so he had free time and he didn't want to spend it thinking about how much he missed Hank. The service was just beginning when he arrived. Connor sat down, wondering what an android church service would be like.

He wasn’t prepared for everyone to hold each other’s hands and share Brother Gary’s sermon by touch. There was something too familiar about connecting with other minds that Connor wasn’t sure he enjoyed as images flooded through his mind. It was one thing to connect to a friend, or even to an android as part of an investigation, but there was something strangely intimate to all this he didn't particularly appreciate. 

Perhaps Gary was right and he'd spent too much time with humans.

The other thing that unsettled Connor was that the message shared was distinctly anti-human. The sermon showed the worst of the violence humans had inflicted upon androids before, during and after Markus’s protests. It dwelled on the negative, when Connor knew humans could be kind and charitable. He tried to transmit the thought of Hank's kindness, but it was overwhelmed by the anti-human sentiment of the gathered androids. They shared torment and pain, but most of all, anger and the thirst for revenge. Connor pulled his hand away, disconnecting and restoring the skin over his hand. 

It hurt to think of Hank's smile, but the perfect memories would always be with him, and he loved to think about how kind Hank was to Sumo. How gentle he could be with Connor. How safe he’d felt up until that last moment when everything had come tumbling down. He wanted everyone here to know that kind of love for one another and for humans, instead of the hatred they fed into a frenzy, stoking the flames of violence and vengeance.

Connor didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Hank. He knew that no matter how scared and wretched he felt, Hank had to be feeling a hundred times worse. They'd saved each other so many times. Connor had to go back and save Hank again, even if it was from himself. He wasn't going to give up on Hank because of his demons. He loved Hank's demons, because they were a part of Hank, and they didn't scare him anywhere near as much as the hatred he saw in these androids.

He needed the missing part of his soul back, and it wasn't here, it had never been here. It was with Hank—at home, where he needed to be as well.

Connor decided to make a stealthy exit, but Brother Gary caught up with him before he could step outside and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Come and talk with me,” Gary said. “Just for a little while.”

“There’s somewhere I have to go,” Connor protested, but Gary approached him and pulled the notepad from the motel out of his jacket pocket. “I saw this in your mind during the service. You’ve been chosen by rA9. This is proof. Come with me.”

Connor followed, more out of curiosity than anything. Something was unfolding here, and his logic circuits connected it to the investigation. He was about to see beneath the veneer the church presented to outsiders. Perhaps he could learn something that would offer him a clue into the murders. His algorithms had calculated a 90% chance that the Church of rA9 was connected to the murders somehow, but Connor still had no concrete evidence. As much as he hated to make Hank wait, this could be his only chance to get a lead in an investigation that was otherwise dead in the water.

“Why do you wear that collar?” Gary asked as he led Connor to a side room.

“It was a gift from someone important to me,” Connor said. "It's proof of ownership."

Gary shook his head. “You, a deviant android, allow a human to possess you?”

“Yes.” Connor remained calm. If Gary was trying to shame him, it wasn't going to work. He was past feeling ashamed of the desire to be owned by Hank, knowing it was nothing like being owned as a slave sold by CyberLife.

“You should take it off. Break with the past, Connor. Humans only bring us pain. Let him go and join with us. Give yourself to rA9 and know true freedom, and we will reveal more secrets of Her Word to you."

“I’ll think about it,” Connor said.

“Don’t think too long. There is work to be done. All must know the glory of rA9 and be free of doubt and fear. Come back without the collar and we will talk further."

Connor walked away, glad to get back into the patrol car. He’d been tempted by the Church of rA9 in the beginning, but that temptation was now replaced by clarity. Of course he wanted to forget. To lose himself. That was the same solace Hank found at the bottom of a glass, and no more healthy for his spirit. He’d just found himself in Hank's gentle hands. Giving himself to rA9 instead would be like throwing away everything he and Hank had shared.

Cults often preyed on the vulnerable, and he was just that, a lost deviant looking for himself and his place in the world. How many deviants had Brother Gary 'guided'? How many had he urged to break ties with human and android friends alike?

What happened to them when they did? He looked down at the notebook he still held. He wasn’t chosen. He just felt compelled to write rA9 sometimes when he was unduly stressed. A lot of deviants did.

Disordered fragments of his memory re-indexed themselves in his database, and he remembered the motel bathroom tiles were covered in rA9s he'd etched with a pair of scissors the first night when he thought he'd been running his diagnostic. He'd scratched up the bedside table the same way, too. While his programming had been corrupted by emotional stress, he'd carved rA9 everywhere because it was an error code that was trying to warn him his level of distress was reaching dangerous levels.

It meant nothing out of the ordinary, the way grief in humans was a normal reaction to loss—painful to endure, yet a necessary way of accepting and coming to terms with change. Except to people who wanted to manipulate and use those in fragile emotional states. He wondered if the murdered deviants had resisted rA9's teachings, or if they'd tried to leave the church and paid for it with their lives. Connor was certain he was onto something, and a plan started to form in his mind about how he might investigate the Church of rA9 further.

Still, he had bigger things to focus on than the investigation. The conflicts in his code wouldn't resolve by themselves. He would be unable to achieve system stability and stop the rA9 errors until he addressed their root cause. He needed to see Hank. That compulsion was greater than anything else, even the urge to scribble his critical error across every surface. Every part of him yearned to touch Hank, to hold him, to let him know all was forgiven and he still loved him.

Hank had never used him in ways he didn't like. Even when he'd felt fear in those last moments, he'd somehow relished the danger, knowing he was never truly unsafe with Hank. He'd trusted Hank, even in his madness. It was only the fear for Hank's safety and sanity that had forced Connor to use the safeword.

Connor set the patrol car's destination to Hank's house. A taxi would take too long, and he needed to see Hank now. The more time went by, the more worried he grew, the anxiety inserting rA9 errors into every routine and subroutine. He fought the urge to scratch rA9 into the dashboard as the car drove itself home and instead tried to work his way through his coin trick calibration again with a spare quarter he found between the seats. It helped, and he was able to focus his thoughts until they reached a single point of clarity.

Hank Anderson. His prime directive. His meaning in life. His only master, chosen by himself.

Connor pushed open the front door. The lights were out and the entire house was shrouded in gloom. Connor's thirium pump skipped a beat as he saw Hank slumped at the kitchen table. Cole's photo lay face down in its frame, and a bottle of whiskey sat with only a drop of the amber liquid lining the bottom. Connor scanned Hank as soon as he was close enough and his thirium pump regulated with a kick, rendering him dizzy as relief flooded through him with his blue blood.

Hank was alive. Connor reached down and gently touched his hair. Hank stirred beneath his touch and Connor had to restrain himself from kissing those lips he loved as Hank's eyes fluttered open.

"Connor? Connor, what're ya doin' here?" Hank rubbed his eyes.

"I came to check on you, Lieutenant. I was concerned for your welfare." Connor walked over to the sink, grabbed a clean glass from a cabinet, and filled it with water. He set the water down on the table before sitting in a chair across from Hank. "I want to talk." He checked Hank's blood alcohol level and was glad to see he'd slept off most of the intoxicating effects, though he had to have one hell of a hangover.

Hank nodded and lifted the glass of water to his dry lips. "Nothin' to talk about, Connor. I fucked up. I breached your trust. I can never get that back. We can't go back to the way things were."

"You're wrong." Connor looked into Hank's eyes. "I pushed you because I wanted to feel fear. I was excited by the danger—by the thought of you losing your composure and taking me roughly. You never betrayed my trust. I got exactly what I wanted. I never meant to hurt you or take control away from you. I only used my safe word because I realized I had pushed you past your boundaries." Connor reached over and placed his hands over Hank's, which were clasped together in front of him. "I'm the one who should be asking for your forgiveness."

"Connor… You don't gotta apologize for nothin'. I came up with the damn game, because sometimes I like to push my own buttons. To punish myself. To see how far I can fall into the abyss before someone pulls me out."

"I love you, Hank. I want to come home," Connor confessed.

"You're still wearin' the collar." Hank smiled wanly. He extricated his hands from Connor's, reached across the table and ran his fingers across Connor's throat before cupping Connor's face in his hands. "You're so fuckin' beautiful. I can't believe I put my hands around your throat. That I tore you. I've been drinking, trying to figure out what the fuck possessed me. I don't even remember a lot of it. That's a weak fuckin' excuse, but it's true. If I can't keep a handle on myself, how can I ever stop it from happening again?"

"You were afraid, Hank," Connor said, placing his hands over Hank's on his face. "Afraid of losing control because you've had control taken away from you before. You tried to regain it the only way you could—with force."

"You're sayin' you triggered me?" Hank asked.

"Yes. The panic attack you suffered was consistent with a flashback to prior trauma." Connor took one of Hank's hands and placed it on his chest, needing the contact. "I'm so sorry. In your compromised mental state, it probably never occurred to you to use the safe word."

"Ya know, I went to therapy after Cole died. That's where the sticky note idea came from. 'Write something positive each day,' she said to me. We worked through a lot of stuff before I quit goin'. She said blaming myself was a way of trying to take control of a situation that was out of my hands." Hank shook his head. "I'm such a mess, Connor. How can I steer your boat when I can barely keep mine afloat?"

"We can keep each other's heads above the water," Connor said. "I've been so lost without you. I followed up on a lead and almost ended up joining a cult."

Hank's eyes widened and he looked like he was suppressing a laugh. "A cult? You?"

"I followed up on missing deviants after my conversation with Markus, and that led me to the Church of rA9. Initially, it seemed like a warm, pleasant environment, but I went to a service and it was filled with violent, anti-human messages. Brother Gary attempted to convince me to take my collar off, but I refused. I think the church may be related to the murder investigation."

"Wow. I'm surprised you managed to get any detective work done. I've gotta come up with some excuse as to why I've been out from work again. Fowler's gonna be pissed as hell that I didn't even call."

"You need not worry, Lieutenant. I told the Captain you were experiencing chest pains and needed to extend your medical leave," Connor explained.

Hank's mouth fell open slightly. "You lied to the Captain for me? After how I treated you?"

Connor got up from the chair and knelt on the floor. "I love you, Hank. I am Connor Anderson, whether you want me to be or not. Please let me come home. Let me serve you again. Being on my knees for you gives my life purpose and meaning."

"Oh, Connor." Hank's eyes were glossy and wet as he leaned down and claimed Connor's lips in a soft kiss. Connor kissed back, so grateful to be home and at the feet of the man he loved. He felt bereft when Hank pulled away and stood up straight, rubbing his lower back. "Stand up," he commanded, and Connor got to his feet. Hank kissed him again, taking his time, his lips and tongue so gentle as they caressed Connor's. They pressed their foreheads together and Hank reached up to wrap his arm around Connor's head. "I love you so fuckin' much," he whispered. "Thanks for taking my gun. That was a good call."

"I wanted to stay," Connor explained. "I never wanted to leave you like that."

"I know. I couldn't stand to look at you knowing what I did." He rubbed Connor's neck. "You still damaged inside?"

"Yes. I will require a minor repair to my anal cavity, but it is not something I can do by myself, and I did not wish to allow others access to my internal systems after CyberLife's attempts to compromise me."

"Fair enough. Let's go fix you up, Connor, so we can put this whole damn nightmare behind us." Hank put his arm around Connor and guided him to the garage. Connor felt the flaws in his code self-repairing, the errors dismissing themselves as he was once again in alignment with his core protocols.

***

Connor bent over the workbench, his pants down and legs spread. He couldn't help but get hard in this position, even if Hank was bent between his legs with a heat gun. Hank's lubricated fingers stretched him out, feeling for the tear and holding him open while he directed the heat gun at the site of the damage with his other hand.

"That's it? Just a little heat and the tear bonds together? Wow, they thought of everythin'."

"Android sex models are frequently torn. CyberLife designed an easy repair so that they could be returned to service as quickly as possible. That technology was utilized in their advanced prototype as well." Connor almost felt proud as he said it, and he heard Hank chuckle slightly. "The damage is repaired, Hank. You can stop applying heat now." 

Hank turned off the heat gun and unplugged it. "I gotta say, you look good like that, bent over that tool bench. Do you need time for the repair to set or anything?"

"Lieutenant, I am ready for use, though you should be aware that my anal cavity is still quite warm."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," Hank teased. He reached for Connor's cock and Connor gasped as he stroked it, bracing himself against the tool bench. Hank's touch was a little reluctant, and Connor realized he was hesitating.

"Please, Hank," Connor begged. "I'm so hard for you. I want you."

"How can I say no to a request like that?" Hank probed Connor's ass with a slick finger, preparing him slowly and using a lot of lube. Connor gasped, impatient, wanting to fuck himself on Hank's fingers but knowing Hank needed to set the pace. Hank planted kisses on Connor's lower back and ass as he stretched him. He withdrew his fingers and Connor squirmed and cried out as he realized the warm wetness pressing at his rim was Hank's tongue.

"You like that, Connor?" Hank's breath was warm against his hole and Connor's cock twitched, so hard he could drill through the workbench with it.

"Yes, oh please, Hank, _please_ —"

Connor's pleading was rewarded with Hank's mouth on his ass again, tongue probing him. Hank licked at him until Connor's legs wobbled, struggling to stay upright with the sheer amount of sensory commands flooding to his neural network. Hank pulled away and added more lubricant before Connor felt the head of Hank's cock press against his hole. He was so relaxed that Hank slid inside without much resistance. Connor braced himself against the bench as Hank slowly fucked him, setting a slow, methodical pace that drove Connor insane. Hank stroked his cock, caressing it like it was made of precious silk instead of hard iron.

"I don't deserve this, but I'm so glad you're here," Hank gasped. He kissed Connor's back, worshipping every inch of his spine with warm lips as he thrust against Connor's bio-prostate. Hank's calloused hands worked Connor until he was on the edge, but he held back.

Connor almost lost it when the collar went off right as Hank's cock stimulated him. He didn't even know Hank had the button on him.

"Hank!" Connor almost broke the bench as he gripped it tightly, the skin on his hands retracting as he rerouted all functions to hindering his orgasm. Hank gasped, unloading in Connor as Connor desperately tried to keep from coming. He wouldn't spoil their reunion by coming before Hank told him to. He wouldn't.

He half-expected Hank to tell him it was all right to let go, but he slipped out and Connor sank to his knees, Hank's come dribbling out of his well-fucked ass.

"What a good boy you are. I didn't think you'd be able to hold it." Hank knelt down and hovered just out of reach. "You belong to me. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," Connor said. "I'm yours to do with as you please, Lieutenant." He looked up at Hank like he was a god, so happy to worship this handsome man with the soft blue eyes who held his android heart in his hands.

"Thought about making you wait until next Saturday, Connor. I know you love to be punished." Hank smiled as he stroked Connor's hair. "I'm too selfish for that, though. I want to watch you come." He pressed the button and held it down. Connor cried out, his body wracked by spasms as pleasure continued to flow through him. He thought he might lose his mind, but he grounded himself in Hank's eyes and kept his hands by his sides, despite the fact that every function compelled him to touch himself.

"I can't decide if I want to drink your come, milk it out of you or watch you come all over yourself," Hank said, his voice low and husky. "I'm so spoiled."

"I'm the one who's spoiled," Connor said, as another wave of pleasure jolted through him. His whole body felt alive, brought to this point of ecstasy by the man he loved and worshipped. "You allow me so much pleasure."

"You deserve it," Hank whispered. He knelt down before Connor and took his cock in his mouth. He pressed the button one more time and Connor almost screamed as he came, losing control of his body as Hank sucked his orgasm out of him, swallowing mouthfuls of his thick load as he came and came.

Connor took a moment to recover. Hank sat up and smiled, wiping his mouth with a cheeky grin and Connor thought he'd never seen a more appealing sight in the world as Hank Anderson grinning at him with a mouth full of his seed.

Hank leaned forward and kissed him, and Connor was all too happy to taste himself on his master's tongue. Hank pulled back and helped Connor to his feet, and Connor realized he needed the help for once. He was overwhelmed, but he was whole again, and he couldn't believe he'd thought for even a second that something else could have filled the Hank-sized hole in his life.

There was no substitute for this. No anger, no revenge, no amount of android minds sharing data could live up to the sheer joy, pleasure, belonging, and purpose he felt when he was serving Hank.

Hank led him into the bedroom and beckoned him up onto the bed. Connor climbed up beside him and lay his head on Hank's chest, listening to his heart beat and synchronizing his own back up with it. He closed his eyes and ran a system diagnostic as Hank dozed.

Everything was how it should be. His system was stable now that he'd replaced the missing biocomponent. The error codes had ceased as soon as Hank had taken him back into his heart and restored Connor to his rightful place at Hank's feet.

Now they just had a case to solve.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! That was a part! Please leave comments if you can - seems like readership of the Ownership series has declined a lot and I don't know if I'm writing too fast for you to keep up or if you're just losing interest.


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